


Anderson survives Quarantine

by OtakuElf



Series: Biological Clock [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: COVID19 Fic, F/M, Gen, quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:48:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: Philip Anderson must quarantine after a meetup with his ex-wife, and she's tested positive for Covid19. Greg thinks it's a good idea to get Anderson hooked on video games.
Relationships: Philip Anderson & Greg Lestrade, Philip Anderson & Sally Donovan
Series: Biological Clock [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/62053
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. It begins

Philip Anderson looked at the screen with a sick weight in his stomach. The call he needed to make was even worse. "Inspector Lestrade, I have to quarantine myself. No, I haven't gotten tested yet. No. I wanted to let you know as soon as possible."

Next, the test. It wasn't as horrific as the scuttlebutt had made it, but it wasn't something he'd do for fun. Mask on. Back to the bare, plain flat he had moved into after the divorce. A good in-depth cleaning took his mind off the possibilities somewhat. The issue, which Sherlock Holmes often missed, was not that Philip was not methodical. It was that he had too much imagination. Sometimes that got in the way of observing, or method. Philip was a puzzle person. He liked to find the answers to things. It's why he had gone a bit mad after Holmes's death.

When he had finally returned to forensics, with the assistance of a patron he had to admit, he'd thrown himself into the methodology headlong. He would never have the good will of the younger Holmes, but he was going to do his best to repair mistakes. If he could. In his spare time - post divorce and post breakup with Sal, he'd stopped stalking that madman once he'd returned, and invested his time in cold cases. Studying where methodology had either been lacking, or gone wrong. Humiliating, when it had been his own mistakes. Vindicating (a little bit) when it was the errors of others he uncovered.

Once he'd cleaned every spot in the small flat Philip sat down on the comfortable couch Sal had helped him choose, and looked around. What would he observe of this place if he were looking at it with fresh eyes. Plain walls. No photographs or paintings on the wall. He had pictures of Sal and the team on his mobile, but nothing here. A stack of crosswords, sorted by date, lay on the end table next to a blunted pencil. "Only braggarts do crosswords with pen," he could hear his long gone mother saying. And while Philip woul admit that he could be a braggart, he never filled in the crosswords with anything but a pencil.

A flat screen television hung across from the couch. After Holmes had died he'd stopped watching caper films, or action adventures. And he'd never really liked forensic docudramas. They tended to focus on the wrong pieces of evidence. He winced now, thinking about the similarity between his thoughts about the forensics shows, and Holmes's thoughts about Philip's work. 

There was a spare set of shelves housing his book collection. Much of what he owned were oriented toward his work. Epidemiology, anatomy, historical crimes, and a work on obscure poisonings. The fiction titles were all old, all adventures, and not appealing at the moment. He'd spent time re-reading them when he'd been on his "vacation" as Sal referred to it.

The mobile buzzed. "And when were you going to tell me you're quarantining for Covid?" Sal demanded loudly in his ear.

"Sorry, Sal. I meant to call you, but got caught up in cleaning the flat." Philip hated his own hangdog tone. "I did let the Inspector know. I'll let you know what the results are. If's a good thing I haven't been around any of you for a while."

"Who has it?" Sally Donovan wanted to know.

"Felicia," his ex wife, "We had a meeting at her lawyer's office. Her mum died, and she wanted me to know I was in the will." Philip had gotten along well with Mum Porter. Stil, it had been a surprise to be in the will after the divorce. He brought himself back to the conversation. "She tested positive right after, as did one of the clerk's."

Sally Donovan made a disgruntled gurgle. "She just keeps giving you grief, doesn't she?" Sally had always disliked Felicia. Even before their affair. 

"She meant it as a kindness," Philip was struggling to be honest. Holding on to grudges had brought him nothing but grief. "But I am stuck in this flat. I guess I'll be watching endless episodes of Midsomer Murders for two weeks." They were neither of them fans.

"Unless you can find an all Robin Hood channel," Sally said dryly. She was also not a big fan of fiction.

"You're getting tested, right?" he moved on. They'd not seen each other for at least a week. Philip had been working on updating files. She'd been on a few calls, but mostly handling paperwork.

"Already done. Greg too. We're clean, so far as the tests can tell."

"Good. Thats good. I guess I'm glad that Greg has connections." There was a bit more back and forth, Philip reluctant to hang up, and Sally being kind.

Then it was back to staring at his room. He'd left the cold case information at the lab. And he didn't particularly feel like logging in and working online. Not when he was technically on leave. He dug out an old cookbook and fussed with dinner. Which tasted fine. But cooking was not a particular interest. If this day was long, how was he going to manage a baker's dozen more?

Around about bedtime there was a knock at the flat door. It took Philip a moment to answer, because he stared at the matte white expanse for a bit. "Hi," he shouted, "I'm not going to open the door. I'm quarantining."

His mobile buzzed. A text from Gregory Lestrade. "I left something for you to play with while you're stuck in solitary."

Second text, "Courtesy of John Watson. He says it's full of puzzles."

That was startling. "Thanks" he typed back. And went to look.

He was expecting a cardboard box full of jigsaws, or puzzle books. Instead, it was a pile of boxes. Two game systems, a clutter of game dvds secured by a rubber band, and a lot of wiring. Playstation. Well, he'd never been much for video games, but he was stuck, and he was bored. So Philip began the halting process of putting the Playstation 3 together.

Finishing about midnight, Philip dug out the dvds and took a look at the selection. Dragon Age. He texted Sally, "Was the video game Holmes had you playing called Dragon Age?"

"Why are you still up?" came the reply. Then, "Yes, Dragon Age. There's three games, and a bunch of other downloads. Why?"

"Because Watson sent them over. Greg brought them."

"Oh, that's perfect. Let me know what you think!" Sally texted back. "Good night, Phil!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Boss," it was the unusually chipper voice of Sally Donovan on Greg Lestrade's Mobile. "Phil has gone down the Rabbit Hole this time, and it's entirely your fault!"

"What? What's wrong?" Greg could imagine quite a few things. But it had just been a video game. He'd played it a couple of times with John. No big thing. And it had only been a few days.

"Phil has made it through the first game and started over."

Okay, that wasn't so bad, was it? "And the issue is?"

Donovan sighed. "He's playing every possible side quest, every romance option, every possible character simultaneously. So that he can compare the differences."

"Um. Good? That means he's not bored, yeah?"

"He's made spreadsheets. And a chart." Greg could hear the laughter in Donovan's voice. 

The Detective Inspector winced. "Has he found the online forums for it yet? I'm assuming there are online forums."

"What, are you serious? Of course he has! I think he's missed the fanfic ones though."

Greg was confused. "What's fanfic? Oh, wait! That's the writing. That woman in the case Sherlock solved was writing stories about the characters."

"He hasn't found those yet, but he will. He spent two years with conspiracy theorists and RPF writers. He'll get there!"

"RPF?" Greg sounded even more confused. "Oh, wait. Hold on a minute. What?" He was obviously listening to someone on the other end. "Real Person Fiction. Who writes stories about real people, other than the scandal rags, I mean? Everyone? You can't be serious. Johnlock? There are people writing about John and Sherlock? What the hell, Mycroft?"

Sally Donovan wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to know about Sherlock Holmes fiction. The reality is bad enough."

Greg gave a heavy sigh. "Do I need to take the stuff back? Is this about an intervention? Because that didn't help all that much during Sherlock's disappearance."

"No, the game is good. Gives him something to do while he waits for the results. I just thought I would let you know it's your turn to call him. Let him tell you *all* about it. Because I did my good deed for the week yesterday," she said with finality.

"Right. Okay," Greg made a mental note to call Philip Anderson to check on him. Surely it couldn't be that bad?

It was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg's turn to listen.

Greg Lestrade had been thoughtful. Philip Anderson appreciated that. The forensics man did not enjoy video games. Or at least he had not before this tedious imprisonment. His friends had tried to get him to play MYST, Riven, Final Fantasy. "Puzzles, Phil, you'll love them!" he was told. But he'd not cared for the people in those games. None of them engaged him. For all that he loved finding answers, he found people interesting. That was the real reason why he'd taken up forensic science.

There were well written people in this game. Dragon Age appealed to Philip's sense of "good versus evil". The right prevailed. Yes, he understood that he could play a wicked character. He'd tried in a single play through, fought with himself over every decision. He wanted to be a hero. This game made it so easy to save people. 

How did Holmes do it? Put himself into the mind of a villain, a criminal? Remain sane afterward? Of course he was less acerbic now that he had been before "dying". Holmes had not so much changed as opened himself up after the arrival of John Watson. Of the children. Even Sally had finally admitted that Sherlock Holmes was not going to be the next serial killer. 

Sherlock Holmes had been a human being all along. Philip Anderson had been very wrong. Philip thought back to some of the things he'd felt. Things he'd said and done to Holmes. He had been so humiliated, so angry. And that memory fueled his evil play through. At the end, he came to some understanding that angry and evil was not what he wanted to be in his life. That in itself brought a measure of peace.

Then Philip restarted the game, and became the swashbuckling hero he had always wanted to be.

Greg Lestrade leaned back in his creaking, awful desk chair and listened to his subordinate, friend, co-worker, explaining in detail how thankful he was for Greg's thoughtful loan. "Greg, this is a great game! Oh, it's got some flaws. There are some holes in plot development, and in background detail, but I am really enjoying the variety - there are different story lines, all depending on the choices you make in the game."

"Yeah, I played it for a while at John Watson's office on Baker Street. I got to be a noble fighter, and I ended up married to the queen." Greg remembered having a good time, but not any particular bits to the storyline other than that.

"Oh," Philip started listing the choices Greg must have made to have ended up as King. Greg had not really paid all that much attention. He’d gone the shortest route to the end of the game, without all the side quests and banter. He sighed and relaxed as his lab man expounded at length on his own decisions in the fool video game. Could get some paperwork done while Phil talked? Yeah, he could do that.

Forty minutes later Philip finally wound down with, "Oh, there's the take-away. Sorry to have gone on so long, Greg."

"It's fine, Phil. Glad you've got something to keep you occupied through this. Just - take a break from the game once in a while, okay?"

Upon receiving Anderson's promise, Greg Lestrade pocketed his mobile, and eyeballed the stack of finished reports. Well. At least Philip was doing alright. And the paperwork was done. He looked up at a knock on his office door. "We've got a call, Inspector. Double homicide on the docks."

"Thanks, Donovan. I'll be right there."

Time for him to go and solve some puzzles himself.


End file.
